Writing About Writing…And Blueberry Muffins

There is something so ridiculous about being a writer. I mean not that I actually claim to be one, unless the odd inspired blog post makes one a writer. Or if sitting up late at night sipping on Jasmine tea and thinking about blueberry muffins (which may or may not worsen one’s condition of insomnia, since it is apparently allowable not to include information on caffeine content on packages of tea) while one’s boyfriend sleeps soundly in the other room makes one a writer. Or perhaps one knows themselves to be a writer, and can rightly call oneself a writer when one finds oneself writing seriously about writing.

At any rate, I think I’ll be a novelist. Not that I have ever tried my hand at fiction. But fiction is really just reality from one’s own viewpoint. Anyways, recently, following a caffeine-filled day of studying physics or some other such material, I began to think about writing. And I don’t mean actually writing down some of the strange stories I begin to dream up while standing in a line (which seems to happen quite regularly here in this new city) or eating a blueberry muffin (I should tell you right now that I don’t stand in line for muffins – in fact I have a strict no lining up for muffins policy). But I mean to say that I began thinking about writing and not why but how writers end up being writers. And this brought me to the website of Carlos Ruiz Zafon, my favorite author (Okay, I call many authors my favorite author, but Zafon has a curiously wonderful storytelling way about him that results in novels that are so slow to digest post-read that I feel as if I need to eat some fibre or something to get things moving before I can move on to another book). Writing about writing, Zafon suggests that “…You should only become a writer if the possibility of not being one would kill you.” And I don’t quite know how to explain how I felt when I read this sentence, but I believe this is what Oprah calls the “Ah-hah!” moment (I would also like to be someone who only requires a first name one day, but I suppose I need a name like Oprah for that to happen).

This is what that nagging feeling must be! My whole life I have had this feeling that I should be doing something about all of the stories I spend so much time on in my head (And I don’t mean do something like go to therapy because honestly, some of the stories I come up with are extremely weird, but I mean do something like write a novel).

And so here is where we begin: Blueberry muffins are delicious.